


Bravery Beyond

by celestialshimmer



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/F, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Trans Character, Victim Blaming, misgendering (unintentional), non-explicit violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 22:20:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1404589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestialshimmer/pseuds/celestialshimmer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That kind of bravery can be hard to forget.</p><p>Consider this a fanfiction of http://archiveofourown.org/works/552381 by mostfacinorous. PLEASE do not read this story before reading The Ghost of Beacon Hills High, or else you'll completely ruin that story for yourself. Please.</p><p>(Note: spoilers up to but not including season 3)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bravery Beyond

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Ghost of Beacon Hills High](https://archiveofourown.org/works/552381) by [MostFacinorous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostFacinorous/pseuds/MostFacinorous). 



> That kind of bravery can be hard to forget.
> 
> ~~~
> 
> All credit for the inspiration of this story goes to the lovely mostfacinorous, as well as a hearty thank you for answering my (many) questions about worldbuilding and such. Also, thank you for writing a story that could so wonderfully break my heart. My imagination carried me away and I had to write this, though I don't think it quite did justice to either your original story or my imagination.
> 
> While mostfacinorous owns the idea that inspired this, Jeff Davis is the one who owns Teen Wolf. I just wrote this story to play in their sandboxes.
> 
> (though actually, I will claim ownership of Sam and Angie).
> 
> ~~~  
> 

The girl scribbled notes on her notepad, determined to write out all of her prospective questions ahead of time. She knew herself; it’d be just like her to not get any of her questions out once she did get the opportunity to start talking to a ghost. Not only did she have to get all of the information they would be graded for, but she also wanted some fun questions.

The next thing she knew, she looked up and everyone else was gone. “G-guys?” she asked cautiously. Mr. Greenberg had told them to buddy up. Not that it was surprising to be left alone, but she didn’t want to get in trouble for something that wasn’t even her fault.

"Hey, Sam!" she heard a voice call. Her heart jumped a little. Turning, she saw not only was she not alone after all, but who exactly was still there.

"Oh! H-hi! An-angelin-" Sam’s stammering was abruptly cut off.

"Angie," the taller girl replied firmly. "Now let’s go before all the good ghosts are taken!"

"G-good ghosts?" Sam asked, confused.

Angie giggled, higher than Sam expected. “Not good as in good-versus-evil! All the ghosts here are heroes or victims, so they’re all good in that way. I just want to find one of the heroes, one who will know a lot.”

"Th-they w-were all he-heroes," Sam said softly. "Weren’t they?"

Angie turned around to face Sam and blinked a few times. Sam wasn’t sure if it was what she had said or the sheer amount of it, but Angie then grinned, dark eyes crinkling at the corners. “Y’know, you’re right. You’re right. And y’know what else? Every one of our classmates is probably going to be doing that, looking for the ghosts of the local pack. Let’s find a few nobodies and interview them, because they’re not going to be nobodies at all, are they?”

Sam had to fight to keep an equally wide smile from stretching across her own lips.

~~~

"This is horrible!" complained Angie. "The only kid we’ve been able to talk to disappeared after like, thirty seconds. We’ll never find out anything, Sam!"

"M-maybe the problem is w-what G-Greenberg said. W-we don’t f-fit in." Sam suggested softly.

Angie frowned. “Could be it, I guess. Is it what we’re wearing?” she asked with a frown. “You know about fashion, right - and history? You’ve always known the answers in Greenberg’s classes, at least. Am I wearing what a normal girl would wear at the beginning of the 21st century?”

"N-no, sorry," Sam mumbled. "N-not at all." She gnawed her lip for a moment, but added, "I am, t-though."

Angie tilted her head a little. “Huh. Okay. So what do we do, find me better clothes or have me hide behind a locker while you ask the questions?”

"T-take my jacket," Sam said, shrugging it off. "The f-f-fabric of your shirt d-doesn’t ex-exist for d-decades."

"And here I was thinking it was vintage," Angie laughed, flipping her hair. "Okay, what else?"

"M-maybe a hat? Or th-the s-scarf?" Sam suggested, almost disappointed. It would be a shame to cover up her beautiful hair, but it had to be done.

"But blonde is totally time-appropriate!" Angie exclaimed, stamping her foot a little. "I did research on that, and it’s fine."

"Not y-your style, th-though. Or w-with y-your s-sk-skin color. S-sorry," Sam said hesitantly.

Angie sighed. “No, it’s fine.” She unwound her scarf from her neck and hesitated. “This scarf is okay, right? Not too modern?”

"J-just tie it s-single knot and it’ll l-look f-f-fine." Angie obliged and then turned her head to each side.

"Good?" she asked.

"G-great," Sam said with a nod. "N-now l-let’s go."

Angie confidently led the way, throwing open the door to an empty classroom they had looked in about ten minutes prior. She shrieked slightly and hopped back. Sam peered curiously around her, only to clap a hand over her eyes when she saw the room was most certainly no longer empty.

"Oh, um, hi," one of the two boys said awkwardly. "Would, uh, you wanna come back later?"

Shockingly bold, considering Sam was pretty sure through the gaps between her fingers that the other boy was still putting his shirt back on, Angie shook her head. “No, it’s okay. We were looking for you two.” Sam turned to her in amazement. “We need to interview you.”

Sam closed her eyes out of embarrassment again, this time not because of the near-nudity but because Angie was probably about to ruin their cover. Really, what explanation could they give for interviewing these two random boys without going into a long - and ill-advised - explanation of a massacre that had happened here years and years ago where they’d either given their lives or had them cruelly ripped away?

To her shock, the lighter haired boy only looked a little confused. “Wait, are you with the school paper? I haven’t seen you around before.”

"I’m new," Angie said with a bright smile. "And yeah, we’re in charge of the article on the other night."

The other boy groaned exaggeratedly. “Isaac, I told you they’d be hounding you after all those goals. It’s your turn to be the lacrosse star.”

Sam tried to hide her astonishment at how well this was going. Angie was either fucking brilliant or lucky as hell. She wasn’t going to ask.

"C-can you sp-spell your n-names? F-for the record?" she asked quietly, desperately hoping neither of their names were "John Smith" or something that should be easy to spell.

"Isaac Lahey, I-S-A-A-C L-A-H-E-Y," Isaac recited and paused. "You need Danny’s too?"

"Of course!" Angie replied, even more bubbly than normal. "He has to be in the article too."

"D-A-N-N-Y M-A-H-E-A-L-A-N-I," Danny said with a little grin. "Need it again?"

Angie nodded, wide-eyed, but Sam shook her head. “G-got it,” she said, scribbling the name on the margin of her notepad.

"So, uh, what questions do you have?" Isaac asked, sitting down at one of the desks. Angie happily plopped down at the one next to him. Sam waited for Danny to sit, but he just leaned against Isaac’s chair, so she hesitantly took a seat as well.

"So, how long have you been playing?" Angie began.

"Uh, don’t you need to ask about the last game?" Isaac said, cocking his head a little to the left.

"This is a human interest piece," she answered, grin still affixed to her face. "We’re not in charge of reporting about the lagrosse game itself, but about the life of the star! And Danny, too."

Sam hoped fervently the boys hadn’t noticed Angie’s mispronunciation of a game she surely ought to have known how to say. Other than that, she again marveled at her friend’s ingenious explanation. Classmate. They were just classmates. Not friends.

Contentedly, Sam let Angie steer the interview. She made all the necessary notes - birth dates, classes they took and what they thought of them, reasons for playing lacrosse. She was a little more hesitant about writing down things like favorite movies and hangouts around Beacon Hills, but those would fit as questions asked in a human interest piece. And, she realized after Angie made a faux pas in referencing an anachronistic dance technique, this was exactly the information they wanted about a typical student’s life in this time and place. There were abundant differences between their lives and the lives of these ghosts, and these little details would fit. Again, she wasn’t sure if Angie was brilliant or stumbling across these things by luck.

Several questions gave Sam pause though. Or rather, several of them made her choke on her own spit. Like when Angie asked  _boxers or briefs really are you fucking kidding me. this was a human interest piece for a SCHOOL PAPER not a gossip magazine. and how can you even know to ask that when you didn’t know that quasi-luminescent viryonic jackets wouldn’t even exist in this century. ~~and why are you even asking considering isaac’s state of semi undress when we first came in basically answered that question for you~~. _ Actually, some things were better left unsaid, even mentally.

And then she had to muffle a gasp when Danny cut Isaac off mid-sentence when he said “so we met up there with the rest of the pack-“

"Meaning our friend group, of course. It’s just a nickname."

Angie didn’t bat an eyelash. “Of course. And then what happened at the theater?”

"T-tell us more about th-the f-friend group," Sam interrupted. She kept herself from cringing when three sets of eyes focused on her. Inadvertently, they had found two members of the famed werewolf pack. Her heart beat more quickly, prompting her to wonder if these ghosts of werewolves could hear it.

Angie must have realized why she asked, but her face remained impassive. “Sam, do we have all the information we need?”

Sam’s brow furrowed. “Wh-what do y-you mean?”

"The questions. All the ones we need, have we answered those yet? Because we could finish up with this last one."

Sam had no idea what Angie was trying to say - why should this have to be the last one? But they did have enough information, and Angie had been either ridiculously lucky or completely dead-on -  _and that was a horrible phrasing, considering_  - in her other questions for the ghosts, so she nodded.

"Great!" she turned back to a confused Isaac and Danny. "Tell us about being werewolves."

Isaac visibly recoiled and Danny lost his balance, actually falling over. He quickly jumped to his feet. “Sorry, WHAT?!”

"You’re werewolves. You’re a part of the pack here, right?" Angie said, smile still present as she tilted her head.

Danny and Isaac turned to each other, visibly trying to read each other’s expression. Finally, Isaac sighed. “How the hell do you know about werewolves?”

"How would you feel about werewolves becoming widely known?" Angie countered.

"Is that your way of blackmailing us or something?" Isaac asked, leaning forward. Sam could see several tendons standing out in his neck.

"No, I genuinely want to know. If there were a place where we came from where lycanthropy was no longer a secret, how would you feel about that?" Sam closed her eyes and cringed slightly at Angie’s words. Actually asking them about werewolves was one thing, but leading down the path of conversation that could lead to the boys realizing they were ghosts - that was another.

Isaac and Danny exchanged another long look. “Tell us why you’re asking, the full answer, and I’ll say,” Isaac replied after a while.

"W-what about D-danny?" Sam asked. If they were going to do this, they might as well have both werewolves’ opinions.

"Not a werewolf," he answered with a little grin. "I’m a part of the pack, sure, but I’m human. So that’s more Isaac’s thing to answer."

"And that’s the last thing  _either_  of us will answer until we first get more answers,” Isaac said firmly. “We’re waiting.”

Sam tried to contain her shock. Not only were they interviewing one of the werewolves of the local pack, they were also interviewing one of the humans!

Sam had always been deeply interested in the humans of the Beacon Hills pack -  their inclusion had been what had prompted this horrible massacre, meaning a lot of the history regarding them looked at them in a negative light. And yet, Sam had wondered what it would be like to be one of them, and if they weren’t actually worthy of admiration.

While the recorded history of Beacon Hills prior to the Alpha attack was spotty at best, it was clear that the pack was deeply involved in combating enemy supernatural forces. The details weren’t known, but the fact that humans had been involved marveled her. Not the fact they were victims; humans were victims far too often. What marveled her is that they fought back. The humans were weaker, and yet they chose to use the strength they _did_ have as best they could. And more significantly, the humans could have left.

The werewolves couldn’t leave the danger without totally abandoning the pack, becoming Omegas and opening themselves up to a new kind of danger. But the humans? The humans could have turned and left any day, could have chosen safety - or at least a degree of safety, since the recorded history did seem to indicate that nobody was fully safe here - but they didn’t. Damn it if the Alpha pack hadn't liked it; the humans of the Beacon Hills pack were noble and breathtakingly brave by learning about werewolves and then  _accepting_  it. That was bravery above and beyond. Sam had wondered if she could ever be brave like that.

She was torn out of her thoughts when Angie finally answered the question. “We’re from the future. We’re on a field trip to find out about you, and in our time everyone knows about werewolves.”

Sam actually buried her face in her hands. Why, oh why, would she say that? If she wasn’t going to say the whole truth, why would she make them seem like liars? Or delusional?  _Time-travelers?!_  Did she realize that’s what she was saying?

"Real answer," Isaac snapped, a bit of a growl coming into his voice.

"T-tell them th-the tr-truth, A-angie," Sam stammered. Isaac was a ghost and couldn’t hurt them, but that didn’t stop her from being a little scared.

"That is the truth," Angie said stoutly. "One hundred percent."

Suddenly, Danny gasped. His face went pale and he seemed to lose his balance again, clutching Isaac’s chair for support.

"Danny! Are you okay?" Isaac was on his feet in a moment, trying to support him.

"I… remember," Danny said softly. "Dead. We’re dead."

Sam could practically see the blood drain from Isaac’s face - though Danny’s words were a harsh reminder that he had no blood. They were just ghosts.

"What happened?" Angie asked, almost eagerly. She stood as well.

Isaac’s face contorted in horror - or pain. Instead of replying, he disappeared.

"Isaac!" Danny screamed. He collapsed to the floor and rocked back and forth slightly. "Isaac - dead. We’re all dead. We’re all dead."

Before she knew what she was doing, Sam knelt beside him. She wanted to put her arms around him, but her hand passed through him.

"Danny, it’s okay. Isaac will be back. Soon enough, you’ll forget we ever came here, okay? Things will go back to normal. All you’ll remember is your normal life - er, existence - as a ghost, being in Beacon Hills High School and not remembering. You’ll be at peace. Isaac will be here too, and you will only remember things before the attack. You’ll be okay," Angie said soothingly.

"The attack - oh god, the attack." If it were possible, Sam would have said Danny was hyperventilating. "They killed him - they killed me - everyone! Oh god. Oh god."

"Danny, it’s okay. Please, listen." Angie’s tone switched to pleading.

"T-try to forget. You c-can f-f-forget," Sam said firmly.

"Can’t - can’t - can’t," he gasped. "Can’t forget. They - they - they,  _oh god._ Slashed open Lydia’s throat - ripped off Stiles’s head - cut Allison nearly in half - tore Scott to shreds before he went down - he was trying so hard to protect them - trying to protect all of them. Trying to protect - Isaac tried to protect them too - tried to protect me me. Oh god, oh god oh-“

"Danny! You’re okay, it’s okay. You’ll forget," Angie said, both firm and yet still imploring.

"No, no, no. Not okay. Not okay. I’m a ghost. I died. They - they killed me in front of Isaac, oh god. He tried to protect me - tried to stop them - couldn’t. Threw himself in front of them - it didn’t work. He had to watch them kill me, oh god. They’d hacked him to pieces - he couldn’t walk anymore, much less fight them off - he must’ve bled out - but had to watch me  _die_. Had to watch me become a fucking mess and  _oh god_.”

"I don’t know what to do," Angie said in horror. It took Sam a moment to realize the words were directed towards her. "Sam, what do we do? How do we help him?"

Sam bit her lip. He seemed to be having a panic attack, but how the hell did you help a ghost with a panic attack? Breathing exercises were out the window, ghosts couldn’t - oh.

This was purely in his mind, because that’s all ghosts had left.

"We leave," she said, somehow without stammering once, as she stood up and grabbed Angie’s arm. "C-come on."

"What?!" Angie exclaimed, but Sam was stronger. Soon, they were out in the hallway, the horrible sobs and other sounds coming from Danny’s throat drowned out when she shut the door.

"W-we’re m-m-messing with h-his mind," she explained. "The g-ghosts only r-remember b-because w-we’re n-not what th-they’re used to. Us l-leaving - he sh-should f-forget s-soon. Th-then they’ll b-b-be back and w-won’t r-remember at a-all."

Angie nodded, her dark face pale. “I had no idea,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “I thought by saying what I said - I didn’t know it would trigger the memories! And I didn’t know triggering the memories would - would - would-“

"It’s o-o-okay," Sam said, putting her hands on the paler girl’s shoulders to steady her. "Y-you d-didn’t know. L-let’s look again."

Angie looked skeptical - or maybe afraid - but cautiously opened the door. She immediately closed it, her lips pressed together and quivering slightly. “They’re kissing again,” she whispered. “Isaac and Danny, or their ghosts at least, they’re both there, against that wall again, and kissing.”

Sam smiled. “G-good. It’s okay, s-s-see?”

Angie nodded slightly, but Sam wondered if she was trying to contain laughter or tears. “I fucked up, didn’t I? Fucked up so badly.”

"E-e-everyone f-fucks up," Sam said with a shrug and another smile. "And n-now th-they won’t even r-r-remember. Th-there are w-worse m-m-mistakes t-to make."

Angie laughed slightly, but she seemed to blink back tears. “I guess you’re right. But… but… you got to ask all the questions you wanted, right?” Angie bit her lip.

"Th-think so," Sam answered with a slight frown. There may have been one or two other things she would have asked, but certainly nothing major.

"I… I had one more question for them. Except not about the interview. Well, I guess we could’ve included it in the interview - huh, it really would’ve fit, being about 21st century Beacon Hills culture and society… but it was for personal reasons."

Sam waited for Angie to continue. “Y-yeah?” she prompted. _  
_

"I wanted to ask them about being gay. Or being out, more specifically," she said softly. "I mean, 21st century… a lot’s changed since then… but I still can’t get the courage to do that. Kiss someone I like in school. Let people know… know who I like."

Sam’s mind seemed to short out for a second. “Y-you like g-girls?”

"Yeah," Angie said softly. "And so do you, don’t you?"

It was definitely shorting out for more than a second now. “E-everyone at s-s-school thinks I’m g-gay, right?”

"Everyone at school thinks you’re a boy," Angie said even more softly.

She knew that. “I’m n-n-not a boy.”

"I know. Now." There was a pause. "I’m sorry," Angie whispered, barely audible.

"D-don’t be. I n-never w-was b-brave enough t-to c-correct people. T-to c-come out." Except now to Angie, that was.

Angie bit her lip again. “What would you say if I asked you to hold hands with me? When we walked out to the rest of the group? If - if you’re not ready, I understand. I just…”

"I’d l-like th-that," Sam said, surprising herself.

Angie brightened visibly. “Really?!”

"Y-yeah," she said with a nod. "If h-humans can b-b-be that brave, enough t-to be ar-round wolves… t-to b-be h-heroes… I c-can f-find the c-courage to d-do this."

Angie didn’t just smile, she  _beamed_. As one dark hand found the other, Sam couldn’t help but smile back. They walked out, fingers entwined, to the bus waiting in the sunlight outside what remained of Beacon Hills High School.


End file.
